


Embers and Ashes

by Newtdew25



Series: Another Side, Another Story [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bartenders, F/M, M/M, Modern Era, Moving On, POV Second Person, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6791686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtdew25/pseuds/Newtdew25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You'd lost count of the shots you'd taken after five. The whiskey and triple sec burned as it went down your throat; the warmth a welcome distraction from the anger and frustration in your head."</p><p>As one relationship crashes and burns, another takes form in its remains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers and Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried out two new things with this fic; minimum dialogue and second person point of view. Also, Water Moccasins and Elk Creek Water are actual drinks (though the latter is a mixture, not a shot).

You’d lost count of the shots you’d taken after five. Water Moccasins, that’s what they were called. It was the bar’s specialty and the first choice listed, so you kept ordering them. There was a peachy taste to it, but you didn’t really care for it. The whiskey and triple sec burned as it went down your throat; the warmth a welcome distraction from the anger and frustration in your head.

            The two of you had broken up just two weeks after your two year anniversary. It wasn’t like it was a surprise though. You had been speaking less and less as time passed, and you just went out for dinner on your anniversary. A year ago, you had taken her on a ski vacation all the way in British Columbia, Canada. By day, you spent your time making out on the chairlifts up and racing each other as you skied down the picturesque Purcell Mountains. Come night, you had laid out an actual trail of roses leading to the bed, where the two of you snuggled together and watched sappy rom-coms on the resort’s pay-per-view, content in each other’s company.

            All anyone told you was that the two of you were perfect for one another. Two brilliant minds, hungry to change the world around them. Verbal warriors, though she fought with her pen and laptop while you were better suited to using your voice. When you graduated, both of you tied for “Most Likely to Succeed.”

            What a crock of garbage that turned out to be.                                                   

            It had become clear very early into your university years that she was destined for something greater than you would ever achieve. Perhaps it had something to do with her father being one of the wealthiest and most influential men this side of the Atlantic. You had to fight tooth and claw to get a few measly scholarships, and your family still had a load of debt on their backs. Meanwhile, the tuition and residence fees were like pocket change for her.

            You took another shot, the sensation still effectively numbing, if not as strongly as before. The shot glass came down a bit forcefully on the counter, and you muttered an apology to the bartender. He looked at you sympathetically, as if he could tell what was happening in your brain. But then he went away to help a new customer, leaving you to wallow in your pathetic angst alone.

            The two of you swore that your backgrounds wouldn’t come between your love for each other. It was poetic in a way that suited you and her, but looking back on it, you realized that it was doomed to end in tragedy. She was always busy with classes, offers from her father’s corporate partners, and parties that you were never invited to. The one time she brought you along, you spent most of your time sitting out by yourself on the steps of the house, clutching your cup of poorly mixed Elk Creek Water. When she was getting ready for the next party a week later, she didn’t ask if you wanted to come. You didn’t bother asking.

            Cute Bartender Guy walked by you again, muttering to himself as he grabbed various bottles off the shelves and poured them into a cocktail shaker. His ass looked fantastic in the black jeans he was wearing as he stretched up to grab the higher bottles. You looked with drunken wonder at his intricately tattooed arms; he’d folded the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, exposing both the lean muscle of his body and the artistic patterns of black shapes wrapping around his forearms. He didn’t notice you though, and you didn’t blame him. You knew the struggle of trying to keep up with impatient customers.

            You, in your obliviousness to the true feelings of others, finally noticed your falling out with her a few months ago. It had taken almost two years of her being miserable in your company to make you realize that you were holding her back. One of her father’s business branches in Spain had put out a request for a new associate, and being the kind of man he is, he pulled a few strings and got her hired for it. She wasn’t due to travel until next year, but she would never stop talking about the culture and art that she had wanted to see for so long. You listened to her and went along with it, but you could see the longing to be free in her eyes.

            But you just had to be selfish. You lied to yourself over and over, making empty promises to fix what your relationship had unravelled to. There was a saying; “if you love someone, let them go. If they come back, they’re yours.” After you let Katherine Plumber go two weeks ago, she’d been happier than you’ve ever seen her. Of course, you insisted on staying friends, but she never truly came back to you.

            Another shot, another layer of numbness that was weaker than the last. The bar had mostly cleared out, and you were the only person left at the counter. Not wanting to get in the way, you fished into your pocket and left a crumpled wad of bills by your seat. As soon as you took a couple of steps, you lost your balance and nearly collapsed on the floor, only managing to hold onto a booth to keep you up. An unfamiliar voice asked if you were alright, and you were pretty sure you nodded and said something about walking back to your dorm room. In your boozy, delusional fog, someone told you to sit down because they’d be driving you home. Before you passed out, you saw a pair of legs in black walking to a door that read “Employees only.” Cute Bartender Guy? Or was it one of his Cute Bartender Friends? You remember your eyes shutting before the person came back.

            You came to in a stranger’s apartment, still fully clothed but lying on a bed. The moment you sat up, it was as if a floodgate was opened and your head throbbed endlessly. You must have been groaning louder than you thought, because the bedroom door opened up. It was Cute Bartender Guy, but he’d changed into a pair of dark green sweatpants and an oversized grey shirt. He was holding a glass of water and some aspirin, and he set it down on the bedside table. As you slowly took the aspirin and water, Cute Bartender Guy sat down beside you and explained that you were so tipsy last night that he decided to bring you back to his apartment instead of letting you try to walk back to your dorm. Once your headache had softened up a bit, you apologized about your behaviour at the bar, but he laughed it off and said that he’d seen worse at the Crossroads.

            While you felt relieved, another question had now come up. You asked him why he bothered with bringing you back to his place when he could have called a cab for you instead. Instead of answering, he asked if you wanted anything for breakfast. Normally, you would call someone out for avoiding the subject, but you hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, so you asked for some eggs and toast.

            Two fried eggs later, the two of you were sitting at his kitchen counter (which doubled as his table) eating and drinking coffee in relative silence. Cute Bartender Guy’s apartment was actually pretty good for this part of town, and it looked like he had done some of his own painting and renovating. While you were admiring his handiwork, he continued explaining what had happened the night before. As he held you up and brought you to his pick-up truck, you were talking in your sleep about **her** and how she broke your heart. Before you could protest, he then mentioned how you had blamed yourself for the entire fallout, which you apparently described in great detail. You were furious then shouted at him for assuming things he had no part in, but when he accurately relayed some of your stories, the shame rose in you and you got up to leave.

            As you made your way to the door, he grabbed your hand and began apologizing for bringing it up. He invited you to sit down on his couch, which looked like he slept in it last night. Hesitantly, you agreed, and he tossed the blanket and pillow on the floor behind it to make some room. It was clear that he didn’t mean to strike a nerve, but he thought it’d be best to tell you what went down without sugar-coating it. Bluntness was something seldom seen in today’s society, and as rude as it can be, it usually felt better to get the straight truth.

            Once again, you asked him about the fact that he could have hailed a cab from the bar. When he tried to change the subject to his job as a bartender, you cut him off and demanded that he answer the question. His composure faltered, and his voice dropped down considerably. Your own story of being wilfully blind in a relationship had reminded him of his own shortcomings when he was just 19. He and his boyfriend were fortunate enough to have the support of both their families when they came out, and he couldn’t be happier. They were planning to travel around the world and escape the dreariness of suburbia once they were out of college.

            But as he put more and more time into his classes, his boyfriend grew restless. He was too young and blind to see that he was neglecting their relationship, and that it was inevitable that his boyfriend would find someone new. That didn’t stop it from hurting as much as it did. They fought and yelled at each other and it ended with his now ex-boyfriend moving on with his new partner and with him moving away so they would never have to meet.

            The hurt was still sharp and clear in his eyes, and you understood why he took pity on you. He finished by saying that even though it was long in the past, he can’t help but obsess over his mistakes. You point out that neither of you can go back, so the best thing to do is move forward. After a few moments of staring at his apartment floor, he agreed with you and thanked you for listening to him. It was only fair that you do for him what he did for you.

            Your phone vibrates, and you read a message asking why you haven’t been responding for the past eight hours. A quick scroll through the lock screen revealed that you have a lot of explaining to do to your roommate and to your family. You apologize for having to leave, but he offers to drop you off at your dorm. He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about helping you again, and you only stop thanking him when you tell him where to turn.

            As you get off in front of your building, he scribbled down a number on a sticky note he had in his truck and handed it to you. He told you to give him a call if you needed help or if you were planning to come down to Crossroads again so you could meet up. You waved goodbye as you walked towards the front door, but decided to call him back before he drove away. There was one thing you almost forgot.

            “I’m David; I just thought I should properly introduce myself.”

            “The name’s Jack. Jack Kelly.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and suggestions would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
